Magical I
Out back where the flies fly and play there are a few tribes of ant that seem to get on together. That makes sense since they have inhabited the same piece of earth for millennia. Obviously they don’t compete directly or one of them would have been the victor by now, surely.
There are tiny golden ants that are so small they are rarely seen, unless I leave a little honey out. In fact that is how I discovered them. I left some honey on a few leaves to attract the flies but they weren’t interested and after some time the tiny goldies showed up and fed till it was gone. Now that I am aware of them I see them often.
There are some ants that are just too fast to shoot and don’t stop for anything, not for more than a fraction of a second. My camera wont focus that fast. In fact there are many kinds of ants about the house. There are the glossy black ants. And there are the armoured ants, in two different colours. Armoured because they have spikes protruding from their bodies at different strategic places, to give advantage in combat. No doubt they have their predators, as I have seen.
They all have different physical characteristics, sizes, colours, feeding habits, demeanor. Unique and beautiful expressions of the being of Ant, a quality of god from out of the pure psyche.
As all things are.
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Then there are the quiet blue – green ants. There are two nests that I know of in the back garden. I have seen them many times but until recently they have been very elusive to the camera. They don’t normally eat fruit like the others and they live in the ground at the base of the fence. When they come out it is usually to find the source of disturbance, which is usually me lately, since they are on the sunny side where I shoot flies in the afternoon.
In the last couple of days they have been out eating at the ripe banana that has fallen from the tree where the bats and possum have been plundering, and at the apple I put out today. Maybe they are just hungry enough after the long cold and rain, relative cold that is.
Anyway, I have taken the opportunity to shoot them and the results are wonderful. They have deep contours in their skin that reflect the darkest magical blue and green of the psyche. And they are gentle creatures.
I observed one appeared to be bowed, maybe resting, and was tended by another looking down on it and waving its antennae over it. They do communicate, and care, obviously. In their way.
I am touched, at the place where Ant and caring is. Where I am that.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Ambrosia
Nectar of the Gods.
Garuda, half man half bird, king of birds, eater of snakes, took it upon himself to steal the Ambrosia from an impossible place to ransom his mother from the snake queen. At the same time promising to return it to Vishnu which he did and for which he was given the honour of being Vishnu’s steed.
Ambrosia. That’s the aroma that was in the air today. An impossible sweetness, always just out of full sense. Not quite existential perhaps.
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The weather has been cold at night and warm at day. I have enjoyed shooting the flies out back where the bananas have fallen to the ground and the possum family have trampled the remains to ferment in the sun. I could swear some of the flies were drunk the other day, no kidding.
After they fed they would stop on a nearby leaf and rest a while for me to shoot. But it’s always on the day, in the moment. If I go looking for the same situation again it is usually elusive. That’s what keeps me from calcifying, everything keeps moving on. Nothing stays the same for long.
That’s what I love, the freshness of the new. Not knowing keeps me going. A paradox.
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This fly was enjoying a bit of fermenting banana in the afternoon sun, stomped on and mashed the night before by the possum that lives in the roof, when a mate came along. You can tell they are mates by the way they touch each other as they pass in their feeding meander. In #2 the left fly has a foot on the eye of the right fly while it has a leg on the left fly. #3 looks like high fives?
There is an obvious recognition in this touching. It’s a form of communication. They did this for a while, touching as they passed each other, and clearly it is a speci-al thing, you don’t see flies of different kinds touching this way. I don’t anyway. Though flies of different kinds recognise flies, clearly, from the way they chase and avoid each other.
Apart from the obvious size, form, colour and the fact you have never seen a depressed fly are they so different from you and I? Really?
Different yes, but so? Inside?
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
The Fly
Hail, rain or shine there are flies about. It’s easier to capture (the image) some times more than others. For instance when it rains – who mentioned rain? – they slow down considerably. Not wanting to bump into raindrops in flight I reckon, could be quite an impact to a fly.
The flies come in all sizes and colours and are no less beautiful or amazing for being a fly. Flies are not just those ‘dirty things’ you see flying around the garbage bin. They are magnificent creations, incredible architecture, busy little fellows.
It’s not easy to sneak up on a fly. But it does depend, on the fly, the kind of fly, and the various conditions under which they are found. In fact I’d say the only constant of flies is they fly, a lot. :)
They are too fast to see flying but at rest it can easily be seen the restless character, busy creatures. Maybe something to do with having a short life though they never think of such nonsense.
Flies fly. And look their beautiful selves regardless of what may be thought of them.
Fly!
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Rain!
That’s all it seems to be doing, rain. But it only seems so because the body of past, memory, is shallow and what is recent is all there is. Rain!
And then the rain stopped and the sun came out. Well, you just never know, do you? Sun, rain, sun. That’s just the way it is until I stop counting the raindrops and the sunbeams. And you always know, day follows night, sun the rain.
Then I went exploring in the local bush and, rummaging in the grass trees, I found a bug. A few actually, but only one for here. A shield bug.
I picked it up and as I watched it sitting on my finger it shit, as all flying creatures do just before they fly off, then flew off, as anticipated.
I found another and put it on a fallen log and there it sat for a few minutes and I got a few decent shots. Not bad, I think. Lovely colour, and magnificent architecture.
Someone said they tire of seeing bugs up close but that’s just the loss of ability to see anew the wonder of nature. Tired of wonder, beauty, mystery, is tiresome, my self in the ascendant.
You’ve got to wake to the vital. By an act of will when the tiresome is upon.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Golden Wonder
This fellow didn’t just evolve, he is created, now, and evolves in time. There is the mark of his maker in him and it is beautiful, now. Beauty is in but uncontained by the form, and there is only one in – inside. There is no doubt about that unless you want to think and get clever. The fact is it is a beautiful and magnificent creature, and he stopped still long enough for me to show him to you.
Do you see him? The wondrous intelligence behind the form, as the form. Who says where is god when such things be. They just don’t see.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
The Light at the end …
… of the tunnel.
The pain of dissolution. Letting go.
Acceptance.
Ant Heaven. Honey on a leaf.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Fly at Sundown
It has been cold at nights in Brisbane and there is not much to shoot at all in most of the places I know.
Went for a walk in the bush, by a dam in Mt Cotton, where the late afternoon sun hits a clearing in the woods on the eastern slope while all else is in shadow, where I know some creatures go for the last of the day’s heat.
This fly became friendly after a few minutes following ‘him’ around, climbed on my finger and wouldn’t go away, seemed to get some nourishment from dabbing his mouth parts on my skin.
A little pleasure to me.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Moon Light
Rain has swept the land for a while now. It comes in floods here and the creeks fill up accordingly. It is dangerous to be caught out in it. There are few enough bugs around but nothing at all after three days wet. Then the sun comes out and it is glorious, lovely soft sunlight sparkling off the still wet, cool ambient temperature. And all the live things take to the air in search of what keeps them going. Sounds like people, doesn’t it.
There are a few places where the creatures show themselves. Openings in the vegetation where there is enough of their breeding and feeding grounds nearby. They come out to hunt and mate and die. Sounds like people again. Are we so different? I don’t think so.
The only difference I see is the capacity to reflect on the past and so think. This thinking stirs the ground of the past, what the past is impressed on, emotion. This becomes the habit of being and so begins the trouble, but only for a while.
When the trouble is known as pain enough there is a way to get through, back to the inner sense that is always here now.
On the other side of pain.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Ant
This fellow and I crossed paths and at my insistence he became a guest for the night. Next day he was fed and watered and sent on his way, off into the great unknown. What a wonder.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Nature's Place 
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